


6 AM

by altairattorney



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill, Songfic, fyeahghosttrick's Weekly Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altairattorney/pseuds/altairattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ignorance is said to be bliss. [Jim Guthrie - You are far (Do you exist?)]</p>
            </blockquote>





	6 AM

_No matter where you are_  
You seem twice as far  
  
Sometimes, even in the net of his excitement, the fear strikes back. It lasts a split second and it fades right after, in the tight flow of all things — yet, it is there, clear as lightning in a red world.  
  
He already feels them, the bonds and the threads, torn apart one by one.  
  
Until dawn — then no more.  
  
 _But there’s still one catch to all of this_  
Do you? Do you? Do you? Do you exist?  
  
He wonders what consistence this thin silhouette can have to them. A man lost in his afterlife, without a past and a future.  
  
Will they part in peace? Will they think that ghost named Sissel was a dream, when they wake up tomorrow, from his own nightmare?  
  
No matter what happens to them. They are real to him. They are real — right here, in this world where he cannot hear them, hug them, touch them anymore. He suffers.  
  
They are real. He is as transparent and thin as sunrise.  
  
 _If I never find a cure_  
Can I leave things as they were?  
  
And he pictures the dawn, with all the tears they will shed. In victory or defeat, he pictures them sad.  
  
Their long waltzing through time all useless, when Lynne’s eyes will be even more wounded for him, and he will hold their ghostly hands in silence. His sunglasses will fall into nothingness, his eyes, blue as the sky outside, will be full of airy water.  
  
As dead as he is, he knows he will cry with them, like a man.  
  
 _Ignorance is said to be bliss_  
  
All the time he is playing with does not belong to him. It belongs to the living, just like his own memories — he knows someone, out there, will remember that he existed.  
  
They will; and after using him, they may as well throw his image away without a care in the world, in an abandoned dump of the outskirts.  
  
He looks at them in pain. No matter what he finds tonight — life is a world away.   
  
After the sun, he will know nothing.  
  
 _Can I still ask?  
Do you exist?_

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill the fifth edition of FYGT’s Weekly Prompts. I really found the perfect prompt. This is a timeline — or rather, an idea — I could never really let go of. The goodbye.


End file.
